My Bride
by PagetPaulson
Summary: Her wedding day.


Feeling the tension start to surround those in the room, Emily looked up to her mother in the reflection of the vanity mirror. "Do you mind taking everyone out into the hall?" she asked lightly, feeling her mother's fingers fix the curls in the back of her head.

"Of course, darling." She pressed a kiss to her daughter's dark hair and ushered the bridesmaids from the room, getting them ready in the hallway to prepare for their walk down the aisle. Setting her hand to the man's arm who had entered the room, the ambassador kissed his cheek. "Good luck."

The dark haired man looked to the woman he loved sitting before the vanity as he listen to the door close behind him. He looked to her brushing a curl from her eyes, the wedding dress draped over the bench she was on and the hardwood floors the room had. "You look beautiful."

Emily looked up, her eyes finding his in the mirror. "Thank you." Slowly spinning on the seat she was on, the beautiful brunette looked up to the man before her, her hands in her lap.

"Are you ready?"

She smiled nervously. "Almost." Her thumbs fiddling against one another, the bride-to-be flicked her tongue over her painted lips. "Thank you."

Hotch frowned to the younger woman. Stepping closer to where she sat, the BAU Unit Chief shook his head.

"For this."

He had asked if it could be his honor to walk the beautiful woman down the aisle. Her father had died not two weeks before, and the pain he watched his love suffer through was the worst pain he'd ever felt himself. "I wouldn't be anywhere else than right beside you," he assured her, wanting her to feel as good as she possibly could on her special day. If he couldn't be waiting for her at the end of the aisle, he'd walk her down it.

Emily looked up to the older man with her chocolaty eyes and felt herself blushing. He always saw right through her.

"Nervous?"

"Exceptionally." She turned back to look at herself in the mirror and fixed her front curls once more.

Stepping toward her, the older man set his hands on her delicate shoulders, forcing her eyes to meet his once again in the mirror. "Is it a pep talk you need? Ok here it is: you're beautiful, he loves you and I promise you will not fall on your face."

Emily laughed at the seriousness on her friend's face.

Leaning down, he put his lips to her ear. "But if you do, this talk never happened."

She grinned, her hand coming up to find his on the lace that covered her shoulder.

"Do you love him?"

The question was quiet but completely sincere. He didn't want her doing anything she wasn't sure of. Her grin slowly fading into a content smile, Emily kept her eyes connected to those of the older man as she nodded. "Incredibly so," came her whispered words.

He hesitated before kissing her temple. "And I know he loves you, so don't be nervous."

She looked back to her own reflection and ran the tip of her tongue along her front teeth. "Are you sure I look alright?" She had been fiddling with her curls and lashes for what seemed like hours and her blood would boil later on if she saw her wedding pictures and everything wasn't perfect.

She had to be perfect.

"Emily," the older man said, his voice whispered.

Emily let the man she had known for most of her life turn her head to look him in the eyes, and she felt her heart stop.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Hotch said strongly, his hands cupping her blushing cheeks. "Your hair is gorgeous, your makeup stunning. What else is there?"

The brunette gave a nervous smirk. "What about the dress?"

Hotch laughed along with his best friend as he looked down to the beautiful and simple lace dress that the younger woman wore. Very traditional, very beautiful, and very Emily. "Perfection."

Emily's lashes batted against her made up cheeks. "Aaron," she whispered, her hands coming up to cover those of the older man. "You don't have to do this."

"I'm walking you down that aisle whether you like it or not."

The brown eyed woman's fingers played over the coarse skin of the older man's hands, her sad eyes met his. She knew his feelings for her, always had, but they had been friends for so long that when she had met the man she was to marry he gave her his full support. He loved her she knew, and he loved her so much that he was willing to give her away to another man.

Hotch leaned forward. "Do you want me to?" They had talked about it very little, the Unit Chief knowing how hard it would be for her to walk down the aisle without her father. He wanted to be there for her any way he could be.

"I want you to be comfortable." She had been surprised he wanted to come to her wedding at all.

Playing with the ends of the beautiful woman's curls, Hotch felt himself smile. "I'll be right by your side," he promised. "Always." After finally talking her into it, the Unit Chief had his best friend standing from the vanity bench and pinning the first few of her curls back with her pearl barrettes.

"Ready?"

Emily smiled smally as she took her bouquet from the older man. "Hold my hand?"

Hotch took the soft hand in his, leading the brunette out of the room to watch the last bridesmaids make their way down the aisle. He spotted his friend's fiancé standing beside the priest, Gibbs grinning when he saw Emily down the aisle, and his hand squeezed the younger woman's before he let go and locked their arms together. Turning, he could see the nerves in his friend's eyes.

She could feel him staring at her. "I'm alright," she whispered, her eyes meeting his. She tightened her hands around her bouquet of flowers as she leaned in to kiss his cheek.

The small touches, hugs and kisses they'd share meant more to him than it did her. It meant something completely different than a platonic 'I love you' between friends, but he couldn't stop himself from being her friend. He couldn't stop himself from wanting to be around her no matter who she was with, even if it was the man she had picked over him.

Emily let him kiss her cheek before she nodded. "I'm ready."

His head turning to the crowded church, Hotch watched the guests stand, their eyes fixed on the beautiful bride beside him. He looked down to the groom standing beside the priest and they shared a nod, the older man giving him a smile from down the aisle. "Don't trip."

The brunette woman almost tripped over her own feet as she snorted, her eyes darting to the man by her side as she elbowed him in the side. "Ass," she chuckled.

"You bet," the older man grinned, his hand dragging slowly down the agent's silky skin as they continued down the aisle and he got ready to finally give her away. His Emily. She'd forever be his, he thought to himself. If not his wife, then his friend. In some way, the beautiful brunette would always be his.


End file.
